𝖜𝖊 𝖇𝖊𝖑𝖔𝖓𝖌 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖉

Hello, anon!

Yes, I'm quite familiar with "Buffy" and Spike! I was born in May 1997, so I was two days old when the eleventh episode of season one came out!

And as for Spike's real name, it's William Pratt!

It's appropriately honorable for them to name him after such a distinguished and hauntingly beautiful gentleman. But you can also imagine my surprise when I found out that James Marsters isn't even English!

So I finally got the birthday tattoo I wanted, but I fucked up. See how his left eye is smaller than the right? I flinched while she was doing the white highlights, because good gods, those hurt so bad.

She nicked a vein or something just right, and I jerked. So it's my fault his eyes look so wonky. 😭

Aww, I appreciate you! Thank you for complimenting my work!

I have been drawing since I was two, and of course, over the years I've gotten better. I'm always striving to improve my style, so that's a personal goal.

Oooh, this is tough. But honestly, I'm stuck between "The Black Room" and "The Terror," though any of them help me through a rough day.

I adore all the films he's made, of course, but watching him play a benevolent and disabled twin who falls hard for anyone he loves warms me like I've imbibed the warmest cup of hot chocolate. He's so incredibly soft, obliviously sweet, and vulnerable in that film that it drives me mad.

And then, because I'm weird with loving pitiful, angsty characters, I love watching him play an old baron who's clearly guilt-ridden. Call me toxic, but seeing him be so remorseful after killing his fornicating wife just does something to me. I love seeing men act pathetic and lovelorn, so watching him act like an old drama teacher who's too deep in the role of a melancholic fool is comforting in a strange way to me. I need a man who's willing to relinquish his will to life, but not before I take him down with me in the crypt as it floods.

I was deep in my REMs, and as I was sleeping, I could feel myself sinking in the dark. Though obviously I wasn't in water, it really felt like I was. I was clawing for something to grab onto, but then I heard gurgling not that far from me.

I tried to hold my breath as long as I could, and I swam over to where I heard the noise. And in my dream, Alex was sinking beneath me. He was reaching out for me and he looked so scared. I tried to swim down as fast as I could and in the dream, I found myself screaming underwater with the muck filling my throat.

I couldn't reach him in time, and he drowned all the same, but I drowned, too, even though I wasn't fortunate enough to be there with him when he died in reality. I woke up screaming and crying for him, and my body twitched to the point where I fell off my bed. I hate having the ability to have such vivid dreams where I can feel everything and see it all clearly. I hate that more than anything, and I still feel like a shit sister. I wasn't there to save my baby brother and I want to die because of it.

What can I do to help me through this? Am I going to go insane eventually from feeling so much guilt and grief? What do I do?

And since this is an ask, my question for you is one you've probably been asked before but, are there any films of Karloff's that you find underrated or underappreciated?

Aww, thank you so much for the late birthday wishes! That is awfully kind of you. I hope this year has been good to you thus far.

And as for your question, I think my answer will always come down to "Targets." It's such a beautifully visceral film, and it's a shame that it isn't acknowledged like it should be. It's undoubtedly one of his finest performances, and every time I watch the end, I'm always so fearful of what will happen.

And the subject of gun violence has never been more relevant than it is today. It's almost like the director predicted the future somehow, and with the political unease in the air and how unruly gun laws are with such leniency, it's terrifying to see these things happen whether in real life or in fiction.

Thank you for giving a shout-out to my babies. They are ultimately my poor lambs, and while angst follows them around like a black dog, they're so in love with each other. They're such bleeding hearts for each other it's insanely sweet. There's some more arguments to be had, but damn, if they don't love each other then there's nothing good left. 🥲

But yes, I like writing brewing tension and plot twists like that. I have a habit of having characters who are either coerced by pressure or who are innocent take a lot of flack and pummeling. But I promise, there will be more scenes of tenderness again!

Oooh, that's a hard one to answer. But first and foremost, my choice will never be Bèla, and that's not me being vindictive or spiteful. I may advocate for mon cher, but I don't necessarily hate that beautiful Hungarian; he's just not my cup of tea. And that's his bit— he's the beautiful gentleman vampire.

For me, Dracula has to be an intimidating creature. He needs to be suave, cunning. He needs to be frightfully beautiful and haggard altogether. So, with that being said, my choice is a tie between Sir Christopher Lee and Sir Gary Oldman.

You flatter me so, anon.

I must admit that I am happy to write either the most loving and romantic scenes ever, or the most disgustingly delicious and immoral sexual limbos. I guess you could say it depends on my mood and my characters' moods.